


The Dog Days of Summer

by AceQueenKing



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Mythology References, Secret Songbird Exchange 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: After Hades lets her go, Persephone decides to get her husband a little gift to show that she is serious, too: someone to help accompany him, when she can’t be there.Or: Persephone decides to get her husband a dog.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown), Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127





	The Dog Days of Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuckquartet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuckquartet/gifts).



When her husband lets her go up early, clutching his love in his hand, Persephone knows: there’s an attempt on her part that needs to be paid. Hades might have done more wrong, but she’s done wrong too in her time, and Persephone knows, _knows_ , that she needs to make it right, much as she can.

Knows how to do it, too. People don’t think it of her much, but deep down, Persephone and her husband aren’t un-alike. She’s just as much a schemer as he is, and there is no one on this earth, above it, or below it who _knows_ him so well as her: his wants, his needs.

Which is why she’s going where she is. To settle a score, so to speak, to heal scars too long ago inflicted. It won’t fix everything about them – frankly, ain’t nothing can do that but time, she thinks, and effort from them _both_ – but it’ll be a sign that she is, to the core of her, quite serious about her man.

Persephone wanders up Etna alone, the heat blasting out of the volcano nothing compared to the winter spent underground. She doesn’t pause to take in the desolate habitat; it was chosen for a reason. Humans don’t tend to react well to semi-active volcanoes or dogs with three heads, and, fortuitously, Etna is smoking, and no one but a goddess could even try to scale the height of it.

She gets to the top in the tip of the mountain and leans inwards, stares down. Tries to come up with a good greeting, but gets robbed of the opportunity when the big dog stares up at her, his tail twitching.

 _Well_ , a deep and inhuman voice growls. _Look who is back._

“Hello, Cerberus,” she murmurs; the dog rises from the volcanic depths to the tip-top; they’re alone, and he looks sleek in the sunlight. “Been a long time.”

He makes a horrible sort of deep noise; it sounds closer to a growl than what it is, a deep purr. She holds out her hand and the dog leans into the scritches. _Ah. I have missed this_. She gives him a good bit of attention, enjoys petting him from tip to tail, gives all three heads an appropriate scratch.

 _Am I to take it he has put away his pride? Destroyed that loathsome smokestack?_ The dog says in words that are not quite words, syllables unknowable to all but the gods.

“No,” she says, soft. “I wish. Workin’ on it.”

He huffs, unamused. _I am saddened. I miss home. Etna is nice, but…_ She understands. His home, like hers, might be a hellhole, but it is _home_. “He’s trying. For the first time in a while.” That takes her to why she’s here, and she smiles, gives her beloved old friend a little smile. She has to trust ithat her husband is making a change, that with his love for regained he might walk back the old hellhole a bit, and perhaps their old friend might come home. “Was wondering if maybe you’d—“

He cuts her off with the monstrous equivalent of a scoff. _Absolutely not. I told him I would consider returning when the air was not so foul; I will not compromise that vow._

“You know, he’s _awful_ lonely with us both gone so long,” she says with a frown. Her half a year; him, several decades gone. “Think it would be better for him if one of us—"

 _He has been keeping you longer. He does not need me._ The dog chuffs; it moves away, back toward the volcano.

“You used to care about him,” she says, furious. “Ain’t that what they call your kind? _Man’s best friend_?”

 _I’m not just a dog and he is not just a man,_ he growls. _Any more than you are just a woman._ The dog howls, a deep noise that sets every bone in her body – even in her body – vibrating. _But I will not leave you in a lurch. Come._

He howls again, and she winces, wanting to cover her ears but not doing it, for she knows the grumpy old dog will take offense. An unfamiliar yapping follows, and she raises her eyebrows as Cerberus dips down, gently picks up a very small little puppy between his jaws.

“You’ve had a puppy!” She says, eyes wide; she does not ask who the mother may be.

 _This one is a foolish pup,_ the dog says, nudging the puppy towards her. It is as white as Cerberus is black, small as he is large. _This one longs for cities, adventures. He cannot yet speak in this tongue, and he lacks the eyes required of a guard_ , Cerberus scorns; the little one does not seem to take much offense. It is not, after all, his fault he was born with one head, not three. _But he is patient, and kind, and for your husband, perhaps…_ _that will be enough._ He nudges the little immortal one toward her, and Persephone takes the squirming little bundle into her arms. _He is just a child. But he will grow. And I will tender him to your care._

The dog is certainly different from Cerberus; white and one-headed, with big happy brown eyes and a nose already sniffing every inch of her in delight. “He’s an active one,” she says; Cerberus nods.

 _Exhaustively_ , he says, sounding as tired as she feels every time she boards that damn train.

“We’ll take good care of your pup,” she promises. “Won’t we – ah, what is your name?”

 _The young one has no name pronounceable in the old tongue_ , Cerberus answers with a flick of his tail. _You will need to come up with your own_. The dog yaps happily, and she supposes that is proof enough that he’s happy to go along with her, maybe even go way down under the ground with her.

“I’ll let you know if—no, when—things change down there.” She promises it to herself.

 _I will return when I desire, regardless of when the change is made. It is always home. But I will hope your husband comes to his senses soon._ _Take care of yourself, and of him. Visit, if you wish._ He starts his long crawl back to his caverns; not quite home, but home enough for now. _I could use your fingers for scratching._

“I will,” she promises, then stops. “ _We_ will.” She'll haul his proud butt up here sometime. 

Now the hard part: she cradles the little dog down the mountain, wishing she’d brought something to carry him in. Persephone isn’t used to being the caretaker, so much; she could let the little thing run free – a little volcanic ash ain’t gonna hurt _these_ paws, but she doesn’t want to put him down. A new little part of their family needs to be loved, and given that _he’s_ the stoic type, well, that falls to her.

The little one licks her cheek, sliding off half a cheek of perfectly nice make-up. “Whoof,” she says, soft, as it tries to get as much Persephone time as it can. “Ain’t he just gonna love _you_.”

* * *

“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?” Hermes drawls; staring down at her little wicker basket, waiting for the train. Been six months, six _long_ months, and both mama and Hermes and even, bless his soul, Orpheus, have tried to convince her mean old Mr. Hades wouldn’t like a cute and cuddly pet. They’re all wrong, and she isn’t afraid of telling them all so.

“He doesn’t seem like the most…” Orpheus says, looking at her squeamish, afraid to offend when his only chance of seeing his love is through her good graces. “Well, affectionate sort of…” She raises a hand, and his objections die down.

“I know my husband,” she sniffs. “He’ll love it.” The train screams in the distance, as if he is echoing her point. Usually _of a mind_ , her and him, in the good years; she’ll hope it’s a good track they're on right now.

Orpheus just stares at the track uneasy; Hermes raises an eyebrow that simultaneously says _I don’t believe you_ , and, also, _I ain’t gonna quibble the point_. Both of them’s nervous; the boy for a glimpse of a girl that she suspects her husband will let ride, for her is not, despite his reputation, without mercy. Hermes, she thinks, just wants to be done with all this, and she well – she’s ready to start again. Isn’t even nervous about it, because he’s waited the full term, and for the first time in a long time, she’s ready to go, and ready to see him, and ready to be his queen, and she’s brought proof of that in her gifts.

The train whistles to a stop; she sees movement at one of the windows, smaller than himself’s profile, and isn’t surprised when Eurydice leans her face against the window.

“Eurydice!” Orpheusshouts; he looks back at her, eyes not unlike a puppy dog’s himself.

“Go on,” Persephone says; “go spend some time with her. I can delay him at least half an hour.” Maybe more, if he himself likes this as much as she thinks he will, but Orpheus doesn’t wait for any further reassurances, just storms up the open door and nearly bowls over the man himself.

He gives Orpheus a cool – and pitiful – look, but she knows he doesn’t have it in mind to yell much at the kid, not when she’s waiting, looking _very_ nice, and therefore _very_ distracting to all his best attempts at grumping about.

“Persephone,” he rumbles; he all but jumps off his train’s steps and nods at her; wants more than a nod, but she isn’t going to get it while Hermes is sticking around. They both look at him, both brows just in sync as they raise. Hermes whistles and shakes his head, knowing he's been busted out. 

“Suppose I’ll go – check out the train.” Hermes coughs into his palm to hide a laugh, and she just shakes her head. He’d stick around for the drama of seeing Hades upwrap this gift, but some things are meant for them and them alone.

Once Hermes is out of view, he bends down, presses his forehead to hers. She pushes her legs up, gives him a little kiss that’s for him and only him. It’s a nice moment. “You’re right on time,” she murmurs.

“Still missed you,” he says; it’s not quite a joke, not yet, but they both smile. She grabs his hand and gently pushes him toward the bench, toward the little wicker basket.

“I’m with you now. And I might have gotten you a little surprise,” she says, suddenly a little self-conscious despite all her faith that he’ll love the gift. “Might not be going down alone, if you catch my drift?”

“Oh?” His curiosity is peaked. The basket barks, quite ruining the surprise; he looks down at it, then at her. “You didn’t—“

She smiles. “Open it.”

He does.

She watches his face as he pulls off the top of the basket, the raised brows, the gentle but deadly _oh_ he mutters as he slowly looks up at her. “Who is—?”

“Cerberus’ pup.” She slowly lifts the wriggling little feather-light dog into her arms. “Doesn’t look much like daddy, I don’t think, but he’s ours now. _Yours_ now.” 

“Oh,” he says. He does the awkward thing he always does when he wants to hold something but is, somehow, too stoic to ask—his hands awkwardly ball up as he looks at her, frozen with longing—and she raises an eyebrow, holds out the dog. She reads him like a damn _book_ and ain’t nobody knows it better than him himself.

“Hold him,” she murmurs, and doesn’t need to say it again as his arms circle the little yappy dog and he gently takes it into his arms, holds it like his own tiny little baby with the softest damn expression she's ever seen. Pretty sure this dog ain’t never hitting the floor in their house. 

“Hi,” he murmurs; the dog, as is its wont, licks half the coal-dust off his old face, and he doesn’t seem to mind. Such a small dog in such big hands; he only needs one to hold it proper. Sure that'll change, but she'll enjoy it while it lasts.

“You like?”

“I _love_.” His free hand winds around her shoulder. “And you, I…” She presses her head against his forehead, draws him into a kiss that’s not exactly sweet or subtle.

“Love you too.” She ruffles their little dog’s energetic mane; needs a name, she thinks.

“Think we oughtta give those kids some time, hmm?” She says; she slides her hand around his back. “Maybe take this little one on his first walk?”

“Alright.” He gently lowers the dog to the ground, and looks at his plain little collar that Persephone’s stitched up – pretty sure it’s getting a new diamond-studded one mighty fast, and she’ll just look the other way at that. “What's his name?”

“Doesn't have one as of yet.” She slides her hand in his as the dog takes off running energetically, as a puppy is wont to do. “Figured I’d wait for daddy to show up 'fore we give him a name.”

“Hm.” He smiles at her, his hand sliding over her shoulders. “We oughtta come up with one together, then. You gonna scheme one up with me, outdoor girl?”

She rests her head on his shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she says, as they walk by the tracks together, the newest member of their household yapping at their heels.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **persephonegray** on Tumblr for Secret Songbird Exchange 2019. Happy holidays! 
> 
> Cerberus - Hades' dog in traditional greek myths, has 3 heads and guards the underworld.
> 
> Etna - a volcano in Italy; allegedly, one of the places where Typhon (Cerberus' father, sometimes) was buried.


End file.
